Grocery Shopping
by keru.m
Summary: Mac, dissatisfied with the state of her personal life, decides to take matters into her own hands.


Disclaimer: I don't own'em.

A/N: I'm sure we've all had those moments where we get caught up in the most irrational thought processes and then do extreme things to try and put the thoughts to rest, right? Well, this is one such moment for Mac.

**Grocery Shopping**

Mac stared at the file in front of her. She'd just read the same page twice, without absorbing a single word.

She sighed. She was decidedly feeling down. She had the blues. The doldrums. And she just couldn't shake it. Something had to give; something needed to change.

What exactly was she doing with her life?

Her career was on track again, after painstaking work on her part following her Article 32 and the public airing of her dirty laundry. Filthy dirty laundry. The kind of dirty that had people breaking out the hazmat suits and going into quarantine. But things were slowly getting back on track. She'd live this down, as she'd lived so much else down.

As for her personal life, she had friends. Sort of. After a fashion. They were mostly work colleagues who'd bled into her personal life, something she hadn't given much thought to until Harm had gone back to flying. In his case, she'd certainly thought she had one friend, but then he'd changed designators and she hadn't heard from him since. Maybe being a work colleague trumped being a friend? She hated the thought, so she didn't think about it much.

Thus, she figured, the crux of the matter was that she was at loose ends in her personal life.

And that meant one thing. One very important, crucial thing that she couldn't stop thinking about: She would die an old spinster. She would die an old spinster, all alone and they'd only find her body because the neighbours would call the super about an odd smell coming from her apartment. The super would open her door and find her sitting on the couch, long dead, with her ten cats chewing on her eyes and the tips of her fingers.

Oh, Lord. She needed to get her personal life in order. Being a successful Marine and JAG lawyer only brought so much satisfaction. And it didn't guarantee not becoming cat food when the ticker gave out.

She didn't want to be alone anymore. Friends, as much as she hadn't thought about it until Harm left, weren't family. At least, they weren't the kind of family that'd think about you just because, and drop a line to see how you were doing. Her only uncle was in jail. Her mother was god knows where and her father was dead. She was a loner but she was tired of walking through life alone.

That needed to change. She needed to change it.

She needed to go out on a date. Start taking steps towards building that family. She'd put it on the backburner because of her career. Now that her career was settling, it might be time to take if off the backburner and see what could be done with it.

A date would be the first order of business.

With whom, though. That was the question.

Her immediate thought was of Harm, but she clamped down on it, buried it in that part of her heart reserved for what-could-have-beens and if-onlys. He was happily flying planes in the middle of the ocean; in fact, he was probably on his beloved Vulture's Row right now, staring at the sunset, smoking his stupid cigar and waxing poetic on how jet fuel is the end goal of human evolution. He could have his hunk of steel and pressurized oxygen.

Mic? Well. He had been pretty clear that he'd more than happily go out with her. She did find him mildly attractive. But, well, there was something about him that didn't click with her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but he made her somehow feel like something she wasn't. In the interests of full disclosure, she could admit that his relentless pursuit was something new for her. No one had ever really pursued her in such a way, so … keenly. It was flattering. It made her feel feminine in her uniform and invincible in her civvies. That was a change from the usual.

But she also didn't know whether it was a welcome change. Or even a good one. She didn't know if she liked the feeling, or if she wanted to welcome it.

Besides, where would anything with Mic go? He'd head back to Australia when his exchange was over and done with, and she'd be in DC. Or she might be transferred somewhere else by then. It'd be a difficult relationship to sustain. If she even wanted that kind of thing with him. And a quick roll in the hay, a casual relationship, wasn't her thing. She wasn't a short term kind of person, wasn't very good at it. History would probably argue that she wasn't too good at the long term stuff, either. She was pointedly ignoring history.

What had that philosophy professor she'd once had, said? 'Empirical evidence does not inviolably assure the surety of future results.' That gem of wisdom had made the mind-numbing elective worth her while. Past screw-ups didn't mean inevitable future screw-ups.

But Brumby? Maybe she'd wait on that one. Or avoid thinking about it. And, again in the interests of full disclosure, his advances were a nice distraction from the sometimes mundane day-to-day that working at JAG could be. She shouldn't encourage him, though, she knew. As it was, annoyance was skimming the flattery she was currently experiencing. It could only get worse until she'd have to lay down the law or just give in and go out on one of those dinners with him.

Back to the point: she needed to go out on a date. Kick start her personal life … What about that detective? What was his name again … Marcus? No, that wasn't it … Mark? Not quite ….Mario. That's it. Detective Mario Bigi. She still had his card somewhere. That could be an interesting date leading to more. He was a nice guy. He knew she was a Marine. Ostensibly, he knew what that entailed, and he'd still asked her out. It might be worth a shot.

There weren't any other prospects really. None that came to mind, at least. There was that guy she'd been running into off and on at the grocer's a few blocks from her apartment. He was devastatingly good looking and he kept smiling at her. He might be there tonight. And she was out of milk. And she could do with some orange juice. She'd also been craving ice cream something fierce, so she had to go to the grocer's anyways … That drop dead gorgeous guy had seen her in her uniform, so no surprises as to her being a Marine.

How to engage him in conversation? Make the first move, as it were, if he were there.

He always spent ages picking out his fruit. Maybe she could pretend confusion picking cherries and he'd offer advice, then they'd strike up a conversation. No, cherries might be too suggestive. Melons? Hell, no; that was even worse. There had to be some innocuous fruit out there. Bananas? Maybe not. Apples? No, that wouldn't work either. Pears? That could do. Were pears in season? She'd pretend she was picking out pears and then … well, what then? She'd never hit on a stranger before. Well, not while sober, she amended, remembering the haze that made up her teenage years. And she'd definitely never hit on one at a grocery store.

Mac eyed her computer screen. Maybe an internet search on how to pick up guys at the grocer's … or she could just go to the grocer's and skim the most recent magazines … what were they called? The ones with tips on picking up men and then sexing them to death. She sighed. One of them was named after a drink. Martini? Mojito? Caesar? Cosmo? That was it. Cosmo. Maybe she'd just get a subscription in the interests of not dying an old spinster. Fossil Digest and Leatherneck would only get her so far.

Mac paused in her thoughts, not liking the direction they were taking. It seemed rather calculating. Mercenary, even. She could imagine her grandkids asking her, 'Why did you marry Grandpa, Grandma?'

'Well, kids. Your Grandma didn't want to end her days as cat food. You'll understand when you're older.'

Ugh. That would not do.

But then, was she waiting too long by holding out hopes for romance? Was she letting present opportunities slip her by? This was all so confusing. It was so much easier to navigate law books and Marine codes, than it was to navigate the terrifying world of dating and marriage and … all that.

Maybe she'd just get a pint of ice cream and watch some really bad action movies on television. Mac paused again, frowning. Now that there was guaranteed to get her eaten by her cats. She had to get out.

This was definitely going to catapult her right out of her comfort zone. Where would she go? Where did one go to pick up men? Did she even know any non-career-driven women whom she could go man-hunting with? Or any career-driven ones, for that matter?

Maybe the grocery store was her best bet. Baby steps, after all. If he wasn't there, she could at least tell herself she tried. Then she could go home to her sweats and ice cream and really bad action movies.

Decision made, Mac focused her attention back on the file in front of her. Tonight, she was going grocery shopping.

--

Mac stood in the produce section, shopping basket in hand. She was marveling at just how many types of citrus the grocery store held when she saw the good-looking grocery shopper standing across from her, studying the apples on display.

She eyed him carefully. He was good-looking, there was no denying that. Light brown hair, olive skin, deep green eyes that harboured a deliberate, thoughtful intelligence. He also had a somewhat mischievous air to him—it was something in the curve of his lip and the light in his eyes—, and his laugh lines made him seem kind and approachable. Beyond his obvious good looks, it was this kindness that she found attractive.

Good-looking Grocery Shopper looked up at her and, catching her eye, grinned. Mac's responding grin was automatic. Wow, she thought happliy, that was one fantastic smile.

She went back to considering the oranges in front of her. Oranges were an innocuous fruit; they'd do just fine.

Mac realized that she was very very nervous. And she also felt more than a little silly. She should've fought her embarrassment and leafed through one of those damn Mojitos – no, Cosmos. She should've read one of those Cosmos for some tips.

She picked up an orange and put it back. She repeated the same with another.

This was the silliest thing she'd ever done.

Mac sighed, and decided to just head over to the freezer section and select her pint of paradise. She was not cut out for this talking to strangers stuff.

"They have a great fruit selection here."

She looked up, startled, only to find Good-looking Grocery Shopper standing next to her. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Uh, sorry," he laughed nervously. "That was a really bad line." He looked sheepish and embarrassed, and she thought it made him seem very endearing.

"Well," she teased easily, "I've heard worse." Mac was surprised by how effortless it actually was to flirt with this total stranger. She didn't know she had it in her. It made her feel reckless. She usually did things by the book, on the straight-and-narrow when it came to the opposite sex – it was a hard-learned lesson from her earlier years; years which were still haunting her in the shape of Article 32 hearings. But this here, this was fun.

"Really?" he grinned, and the mischievous curve of his lip inched higher. She decided that she had taken a definite liking to his easy air and unaffected manner. "How about: 'you have some great oranges, there'?"

She laughed out loud. And a sense of humour. Things were looking good so far.

"Okay, that takes the cake. You can have your crown back."

He buffed his nails against his shirt, and raised a playfully arrogant eyebrow. "Thanks."

She turned back to select a few more oranges, unsure of what to say or do now that the ice was broken. She'd know exactly what to do if he was a dinosaur fossil or a recalcitrant witness. But this here was new territory.

"I've seen you around here a few times," Good-looking Grocery Shopper said while also selecting oranges.

She turned to look at him, fighting an impish smile.

He noticed her expression and shrugged defensively. "Hey, you crowned me the King of Bad Pick-up Lines. I have to live up to the name. I'm not ready to abdicate just yet."

She laughed, genuinely amused. "Good point. Well, I do my grocery shopping here."

He nodded, "Same here. I live a few blocks away. Although," he paused and she watched the mischievous curve of his lip curl higher, "I don't usually see you shopping for fruit. You usually head for the bakery and then the freezers."

Mac was determined not to blush or sound flustered at being found out. She tried to shift the focus back to him. "You seem to have been paying close attention to my comings and goings."

"Well," he looked at her with such a warm, playful sparkle in his eye, that she was mesmerized. Mac mentally added charm to his list of attributes. "You are hard not to notice."

Mac looked away, blushing. This was definitely light years out of her comfort zone. Maybe it was time to put this to an end and hunker down on her couch with ice cream and B-rated action flicks. What was she thinking? Did people really spend their lives together after meeting in the produce section?

"Sarah!" Mac turned at the sound of her name being called in a very Australian accent.

"Mic?" Shock was too weak a word to describe her reaction at seeing Mic in her grocery store.

"Sarah." He grinned. "Glad I found you."

"How _did_ you find me?" She was definitely annoyed. This was one liberty too many.

"Come now, luv. It's all luck." He put up his hands defensively. "I was coming by your place and thought I'd pick up dessert—"

"And why were you coming by my place, Mic?" She hoped she sounded as angry as she felt.

"Well—"

She cut him off before he launched into some half-cocked excuse.

"Mic. You have to stop doing this."

"Nothing doing, Sarah." He smiled warmly. "What's some dessert between friends?"

Weariness hit Mac full force. He was exhausting her. How could she find this flattering? His advances had the subtlety of a kangaroo on speed.

"Mic—" She stopped, unsure how to proceed. She didn't want to be mean, he didn't deserve it and she did work with him, but she needed to put an end to this. "Mic—"

"Sarah," he cut her off quickly. "It's…" Mic trailed off as he caught sight of Good-Looking Grocery Shopper.

"Can I help you, mate?"

Mac turned to face Good-Looking Grocery Shopper. She'd forgotten all about him. "I'm sorry, uh …" She didn't know his name.

"Devon. Devon Sawyer," he supplied helpfully, offering Mac a meaningful look. "Is he bothering you?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Mac said more curtly than she'd intended. She could take care of herself and damn Mic for making Good-Looking Grocery Shopper Devon Sawyer think otherwise.

"Who is this bloke?" Mic frowned at Devon.

"That is none of your business, Mic." Mac fought her frustration. Who the hell did Mic think he was? Men, she huffed.

"Look, I'm sorry, Sarah. I just thought that since I wasn't doing much of anything this evening, I'd see if you were up for some company. That's all."

Mac sighed in defeat. "It's alright, Mic. I'm not up for company and next time you should call before deciding to just pop in. I told you, I'm not interested." She stared at him pointedly, until he finally gave in and turned to leave.

"Have a good night, Sarah." He threw an insincere look at Devon, "You, too."

"Thanks, Mic," she replied, relieved.

When he finally disappeared through the grocery store doors, Mac turned to stare at the oranges on display. She could feel Devon watching her carefully. This was going to be awkward. She was just going to have to slink her way to the freezer section and buy two pints of frozen, creamy paradise. After that exchange with Mic, in front of Good-Looking Grocery Shopper Devon Sawyer, she would need more than one pint.

"I, ah," she began before shrugging away her unease – she really had no reason to feel uneasy, she told herself – and looking Devon in the eye. "It was nice to meet you Devon. Have a good night."

Devon looked surprised, but nodded with a regretful smile. "You, too."

She smiled in return, and then headed straight for the ice cream and stopped only when she was facing the freezer full of frozen delights.

Screw Cosmo, she thought happily, this was the stuff of fantasy.

What did she feel like having tonight? She definitely was not in the mood for nuts; she'd had enough of that with Brumby.

Fruit? No. That'd just remind her of Good-Looking Grocery Shopper, who must think she was some sort of female Don Juan – Dona Juanita, as it were. She sighed and then banished the thought. She was picking ice cream flavours. That demanded her full attention.

Something with chocolate. Lots of it. And brownie pieces would be nice. Ooh, or coffee. Mmm, did they have that orgasmic cappuccino flavor with espresso beans? She'd dreamed about that one. On more than one occasion.

She felt someone by her side and took a step forward to give them room to pass.

"Excuse me."

Mac looked up to find Devon standing diffidently beside her.

"I don't mean to interrupt, and I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot back by the produce section."

She stared at him, too surprised by his presence to formulate any kind of response.

"Anyways," he hurried on, "I wanted to apologize if I intruded in your conversation and," he grinned hesitantly, "I thought maybe foraying into your home turf," he tilted his head towards the ice cream freezers, "would add some merit to my apology."

She couldn't help her laugh; he was very charming indeed. And fun.

"Well, I was afraid for my safety in the produce section," she said in mock seriousness. "You never know when fruits and vegetables will stand up to reclaim the earth as theirs."

"That's why I make a point of eating my daily intake, as defined by the USDA." His tone was serious, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. "It's all about population control."

They shared a laugh, and she decided that Devon was definitely someone she wouldn't mind getting to know better.

"Can I call you Sarah?" He asked carefully, as though expecting to be rebuffed.

She was about to reply when she heard her name being called in a very familiar voice.

"Mac!"

"Harm?" She whipped around and her eyes fell on Harm, who was making his way towards her, full-fledged grin in place. What the hell … What was he doing here?

"Hey, it's great to see you Mac." He came up to stand in front of her and, after a short hesitation, pulled her in for a brief hug. Mac was too surprised to react.

"I'm glad I found you." He said, grinning. She was reminded of how gorgeous his smile was. And how much she'd missed it.

"How _did_ you find me?" She was too perplexed to pay heed to the sudden sense of déjà vu. Why wasn't he on the deck of a carrier in the middle of an ocean?

"Well, I know where you shop for your groceries." He replied easily. "You weren't at your place or at JAG, so I drove by and saw your car. And the ice cream section is your favourite part of the grocery store." He glanced inside her shopping basket and raised an eyebrow. "Oranges? Are you going to put that as a topping on your sundae?"

She grinned at him. It was so wonderful to be see him, to be teased by him. He was also terribly good-looking. His eyes were warm and happy, and his smile…

"Excuse me?" Harm suddenly noticed Devon standing to Mac's side. He didn't bother hiding his curiosity, or the mild undercurrent of hostility in his question.

Mac sighed and turned to make introductions. There really was no need for either Harm or Mic to be uncivil to poor Devon. "Harm, this is Devon. Devon," she offered Devon an apologetic smile, "this is Harm."

She watched Harm appraise Devon for one long moment before he spoke. "Nice to meet you"

"Likewise." Devon returned the appraising look, and gave Harm a brief nod.

Mac fought the urge to roll her eyes. Men. Maybe cats were a better fate.

"So," Harm began in a deceptively conversational tone. Mac braced herself. "How do you know Mac?"

"Mac?" Devon turned to her, looking confused. "I thought your name was Sarah?"

"Sarah?" Harm looked at her, and she could almost see the question marks in his eyes.

"Sarah MacKenzie." She told Devon, her patience was wearing thin. She was also too tired to worry about handing out her last name to a stranger. "Mac is a nickname. Short for MacKenzie."

"Oh. Sarah MacKenzie," he repeated slowly. He smiled at her, that warm, friendly look in his eyes again. "Sarah is a beautiful name, it suits you."

She raised her eyebrows at his forwardness.

"Ah, thank you." For reasons she couldn't explain, she thought forwardness was an attractive trait in him. Oh, Lord. A horrible realization hit her. Maybe she was just attracted to pushy, forward men. Maybe being eaten by ten cats was a better fate than spending the next 50 years with one such man. Or was it? It seemed that she was doomed.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't, she thought ruefully.

Harm cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Mac looked at him.

"So," she addressed Harm. "Are you on leave? How long are you here for?" She turned to Devon. "Harm's a Navy pilot." She offered by way of explanation.

"Ah, well." Harm shuffled his feet and studied his shoes before looking up at her. "Not exactly…"

Her patience was way past its expiry date. "Spit it out, Harm."

He studied her carefully. "I'm back at JAG."

"What?" Her eyes widened. Shock was, for the second time that night, too weak a word to describe her reaction.

"Yeah, changed my designator." He paused. "Again." He added sheepishly. She had always found him particularly endearing when he sported that sheepish look.

"Is everything okay?" She could not imagine him willingly giving up on flying, as unreasonable a career path as that was. In fact, given Harm's propensity to act on emotion, she thought he'd finish his career on that particular track. But coming back to JAG? It didn't make sense.

He grinned. "Better than. I love flying, but career-wise, well, it isn't where I am right now. It's not who I am anymore."

"I find that hard to believe." She still didn't understand. Something must have happened. "It must've been a difficult decision."

"It was. It's a long story." He was all seriousness as he watched her process his response. She was caught in his gaze, trying to read there what he wasn't telling her. What wasn't he telling her?

"Umm, Sarah."

Mac slowly turned to Good-Looking Grocery Shopper Devon Sawyer, trying to hold Harm's gaze for as long as she could. Finally, she pulled herself away and focused on Devon. "Oh, I'm sorry, Devon. That was rude of me."

"It's alright, not a problem." He waved away her apology. "Look, I do need to get going. If you ever do want to get together, for whatever," he said it in a way that made her think he wasn't holding out much hope. "Give me a call." He handed her his card and grinned. "I promise there'll be no dessert involved."

She smiled warmly in return, unable to deny that she was attracted to him. What hot-blooded female wouldn't be? She took his card. "Thanks. Have a good evening, Devon."

"You too, Sarah."

He nodded at Harm and left.

"How long have you two known each other?" She could see through Harm's casual tone, and wondered why this was bothering him.

"About ten minutes." She was curious as to what his reaction would be.

"Mac!" He exclaimed, appalled. The disapproval in his tone caught her by surprise. "And you took his card? And told him your last name? Geez, Mac! I'm gone for a few months and all of a sudden…" he trailed off and looked at her, his expression suddenly apologetic. "Sorry. That was out of line."

"It was," she agreed, but was too happy to see him to bother with anger at his forwardness. "However, you're not too far off. I just thought I'd try something new. I just didn't want to get eaten by my cats." She realized how nonsensical she sounded and decided to change the subject. "So why did you hunt me down in the grocery store? You could've just called; my cell number hasn't changed."

Harm was watching Devon line up at the cashier's. He seemed pensive and confused.

"'I, ah," he began, obviously still distracted by Devon. "I wanted to see you."

"Oh." She wasn't sure how to react to that. They hadn't contacted each other at all while he was gone, and yet he hunted her down at her grocery store?

"Yeah." He replied absently. "I missed you." He turned abruptly to look at her, his eyes widened in surprise. She guessed that he hadn't meant to say that out loud. "I mean, we hadn't kept in touch and I, ah…" he looked at her and shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. "Ah, hell, Mac. I really did miss you."

"I missed you too, Harm." She said it because it was true, and because she thought it might temper some of his embarrassment.

He smiled softly, his eyes warm and familiar. She really had missed him, more than she'd even realized.

"So, what's this about being eaten by your cats?" He tilted his chin and studied her. "I didn't peg you as a cat person."

She laughed at his teasing, feeling lighter than she had since he'd left. "It's a long story."

"How about we trade stories over some coffee and dessert?" He offered her his arm. "That café near your place is still open, right?"

"Yeah. It changed hands, though." She took his arm and they headed for the exit.

"Really? Good or bad?"

"Fantastic, Flyboy. Their coffee is to die for. And the desserts…" she moaned blissfully. "Don't get me started on the desserts."

He laughed. "Duly noted." He stopped suddenly and looked down at her. "Hey, do you need to finish your grocery shopping?"

"Nah." She shook her head and put down her shopping basket by an empty check-out counter. "I already have the essentials."

They resumed walking. "In that case, Marine, how about some dessert?"

"I'd love to."

The end.


End file.
